She drew in a breath, her eyes on his. “You will have none of my apology, then?”
His brows rose. “Was that what it was?”
Angelica huffed. “Raoul, do stop being so provoking! Read the letter, Felicity. Aloud, if you please.”
But this she could not consent to do. Not before she had seen whatever obnoxious contents had driven the marquis into a frenzy. His words flipped back into her head. Trustee? Without conscious decision, she dropped her eyes to the sheet, reading with a startled mind.
My lord — I write in haste, forced to it by this unexpected outcome. To have a lesser man take the bait would have better served my purpose, but I dare not hope your lordship will take a route to the altar as another would have done at my instigation.
“He meant to force a man to marry me? How might he do that?” She glanced up again.
“Easily, once you had spent a night under the fellow’s roof.” The tone was dry, impersonal, just as if the mischief was not aimed at him.
“Gracious heaven! Thank goodness she fell into your hands, Raoul.”
“That, Angelica, remains to be seen. Read on, Miss Temple.”
Felicity felt a little sick, but she bent her eyes once more to the letter.
Thus it behoves me to give you warning of a difficulty you may face should you choose, as with confidence I anticipate, to use the party now in your possession —
“In your possession!” She flung a flashing glance at the marquis. “That, sir, I am not!”
A wry smile curved his mouth. “I make no claim beyond my twenty guineas, Miss Temple, as you know.”
“You have had your value of that, Raoul. Now be quiet and let her read.”
—thepartynowinyourpossessioninlieuofacertaintransactionthatliesbetweenus.
“Such veiled terms he uses! Does he mean the money he owes you? Yes, he must mean that.”
“I wish you will not be so cryptic! What does he say?”
Felicity’s glance strayed to her hostess’s impatient face. “He misjudges your cousin, ma’am, supposing he would have taken me for his mistress to make up for the debt — just as you surmised, sir.”
“Read on,” was all the response she got from his lordship.
She bent her eyes to the letter and caught the word that had begun this painful scene. “Here it is — the trustee.” She continued aloud, “The expectation of trouble, if it comes, will emanate from a trustee of sorts. Therefore, my best advice is for discretion in your dealings with a certain party.He means me? Yes, he must do.Bandyinganame— What, mine? Temple? —Bandyinganamemaybringthedeviloutofthewoodwork,sinceaninterestexistsofwhichsuchpartymayormaynotbeignorant. So that is why you accused me!” Frowning now, she stared across at the marquis. “Ignorant? But he knows I am ignorant! Did he mean to make you suspicious of me? To what end?”
Angelica was clucking, but the marquis waved her to silence. “He may not be certain of your ignorance.”
“Of the existence of a trustee? Of course he is certain. He knows very well I have had dealings only with Mrs Jeavons and himself as my guardian.”
“A trustee of sorts, he says,” cut in her hostess. “What does that mean?”
Lord Lynchmere was looking thoughtful. He leaned forward, holding out an imperative hand. “Give me the letter.”
Felicity glanced at it. “Wait. There is more.If the history be opened, let the record show I did then and have here done what I might to make amends. I am, sir, your lordship’s obedient… Oh, etcetera!” Without will, she looked up, directing her puzzlement at the marquis. “Amends? What amends? Of what is he talking?”
Lord Lynchmere held out his hand again. “Give it to me.”
Felicity passed it across, distracted now, and watched the marquis look it over, his quizzing glass held over the sheet. He dropped the glass, striking the letter with the back of his hand as he looked up. “An interest. He does not specifically say you may be ignorant of the trustee, but of this interest.”
“Whatever that may mean,” said Angelica in a frustrated sort of tone. “It is too provoking of the man.” Then she brightened. “Your family, Felicity! What a pity you made no headway today with the girls. But it must mean that, must it not? Trustee? Interest? What else could it be but your father’s family?”
Felicity ignored this, her mind dwelling obstinately on the introduction of the last part. “History? What history? What does he mean he made amends? Amends for what?”
Angelica had seized the letter and was busy devouring its contents for herself. Lord Lynchmere’s brows were drawn together.
